


The Jingle Book

by TheDarkRat



Series: DarkRat's Plot Bunny Basket [14]
Category: The Jungle Book (1967), The Jungle Book - All Media Types
Genre: Bagheera Plays the Cello, Bagheera is a Classical Composer, Baloo Thinks Music is Music Man, Baloo Writes Jingles and Commericals, Human AU, Kid Fic, M/M, Modern AU, Music is Their Life, Takes Place in Boston Massachusetts, They are all Desi. They Are NOT White.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkRat/pseuds/TheDarkRat
Summary: Me: Hey Luv. Going to be late this afternoon. Can you start dinner?Troubleclef: Sure, chicken or tofu?Me: ChickenTroubleclef: Sounds good. What came up?Me: Met up with Akela. At the police station filling out forms.Troubleclef: >.> what did you do?Me: Nothing!Me: I did nothing!Me: But...I might have made us certified temporary foster parents?
Relationships: Bagheera/Baloo (Jungle Book)
Series: DarkRat's Plot Bunny Basket [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500458
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	The Jingle Book

**Author's Note:**

> Some background information -   
> *King Louie works with Baloo composing and performing TV Themes and Commerical Jingles. He has a human skull on his electric organ. 
> 
> *Sher Khan and Bagheera went to college together. They were roommates. They know have a Roommate Hate-On. 
> 
> *Bagheera is a very uptight and stodgy person. He's a classical composer and conductor. He works for the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He plays the cello and has very firm opinions on music. 
> 
> *Bagheera and Baloo's brownstone is the same as Roger's flat in 101 Dalmations.

It's a nice summer day outside. The sun is out and there's a beautiful sea breeze. It's a beach day. So Baloo sets up near Faneuil Hall and starts playing The Beach Boys. Busking is a lucrative hobby if you're good and play recognizable tunes. 

He's singing a rocking rendition of Kokomo when a tiny, brown-skinned kid wanders over. The little guy's got stars in his big doe eyes. Baloo hams it up a little as he plays and the kid eats it up. The little mite starts dancing himself, not a care in the world, just him and the music. 

Baloo makes it through "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and starts into a new artist with "Banana Pancakes" before he realizes the kid doesn't seem to have any parents attached. No one's watching him overly much or taking pictures and cooing. This is worrying. 

So when he takes a break for water and a granola bar. He gives the kid some. 

"Thhhank you," he says carefully sounding out the word. 

"Eh, you're welcome, Little Britches. Where's your mum?"

"Don't got one." 

"Your dad, then." 

"Over…...there?" The kid points in a direction but now realizes that whoever he was looking for isn't there anymore. His bottom lip starts to tremble. 

"Hey hey. Easy little Britches. What's your name?" 

"M-m-mowgli." He sniffles.

"Well then Mowgli, let's wait for your dad right here. He'll come back once he realizes your missing. And in the meantime, you and I will sing some more songs. How 'bout that?"

Mowgli gives a watery smile and nods. At least he's not screaming, Baloo thinks. He shoots a quick text to a friend and then picks his guitar back up.

As he starts up another upbeat summer-y song, Baloo watches Mowgli start to sway to the music, like he can't help himself. Like the music is just a powerful force he has to pay attention and listen. Baloo knows this kid is meant to be a musician. He's got the heart for it already. 

Half an hour later and the answer to Baloo's text arrives. Detective Akela Rudyard has been friends with Baloo since college, well, through Akela's wife Raksha, who had gone to school with Baloo. 

"Hey, Baloo!" The detective greets as he comes over after the last notes of a song. "Good haul today?" 

"Oh yeah. Tourist season." Baloo quips back. Both men make easy small talk, allowing Mowgli to adjust to another strange adult. "Have you met my new friend here, Mowgli?" The boy looks up from the water bottle at his name. 

"No, I haven't. Nice to meet you Mowgli." Akela holds out his hand for a shake. The kid enthusiastically shakes. "My name is Akela. And I'm a policeman."

"Po-lice man?" 

"Yeah. Baloo thought I could help find your daddy." He smiles. 

"Okay. Po-lice are 'pposed to help."

"That's right. We are. Now, can you tell me what your daddy looks like?" 

Mowgli seems to be deep in thought. "He looks like you. Tall. Skin like you and me. Hair brown and black and silver. He was wearing his Lucky Green Shirt today." 

"Good job, Mowgli. That will help. Have you been with Baloo since you were with your daddy?" 

"I tink? He was there but then I heard the music. And I had to go see." 

Akela laughs, "Yeah. Baloo plays great tunes. I can't blame you for that. Do you know your phone number?" 

Moughli scrunches up his face. "617...uh….555...65." He looks up with a triumphant grin. "That's my phone number." 

Baloo sends a look over the kid's head. But Akela doesn't let anything show on his face. "Good job. I bet you worked hard on remembering that."

"Yes! I did! Daddy tested me once. I got a lollipop!"

"That's great. Now, I'm gonna try and call your daddy. If he doesn't answer, do you want to ride in a police car? Baloo can come too."

"Can I turn on the lights!" Mowgli jumped up and down. 

"I think so."

* * *

  
  


It’s been a couple of hours now, and Akela has been given him form after form to fill out. 

“Look,” Baloo sighs, “it’s not that I don’t think the kid needs some looking after. But me and Bagheera? Hell, I haven’t even talked to him yet.” 

“Trust me. And without this, the kid’s gonna end up in the system. Especially if we can’t find his dad. But even then, who leaves their kid in the middle of the city? Assholes that’s who. Mowgli’s better off with you and Bags.” 

“Fine. Least he’s out of diapers.” 

Baloo looks over to where they’ve set up a box of Duplo blocks. Mowgli’s running a matchbox car up a tower making Zoom Zoom noises. It’s cute and heartwarming. They had talked, abstractly, about adopting someday. But it wasn’t a serious discussion. This isn’t exactly something you surprise your partner with out of the blue. Baloo, in-between forms, pulls out his phone, and sends a text. 

**Me:** Hey Luv. Going to be late this afternoon. Can you start dinner? 

**Troubleclef:** Sure, chicken or tofu? 

**Me:** Chicken

**Troubleclef:** Sounds good. What came up? 

**Me:** Met up with Akela. At the police station filling out forms. 

**Troubleclef:** >.> what did you do? 

**Me:** Nothing! 

**Me:** I did nothing! 

**Me:** But...I might have made us certified temporary foster parents? 

**Troubleclef** : ….

**Troubleclef:** What? 

**Me:** Hear me out. 

**Me:** A kid found me earlier today. Parents nowhere in sight. Called Akela. Akela brings kid and me to the station. Kid’s gonna have to be placed with a temp foster care. Until parents can be found. Kid loves music. Akela thinks we’d be good. 

**Troubleclef:** Is the child okay? 

**Me:** Yeah, healthy. Just. Lost? Given up? 

**Troubleclef:** Why do I even let out of the house? 

**Troubleclef:** You said the child would have to be shunted to another temporary guardian otherwise? 

**Me:** Yeah

**Me:** Or a group home. Just, the system in general, man. 

**Troubleclef:** Very well. Temporary custody is acceptable. I’ll keep the spice down for dinner. 

**Me:** I love you. <3 

**Troubleclef:** I love you, too. 

* * *

Akela bundles him and Moghli back into his car, to take them home. But he stops off at his own home. 

“I got some clothes and toys that the kids have outgrown. You can take ‘em.” He says as they park in the driveway. “A couple of containers in the garage.” 

“Oh! Thanks. I didn’t think of that yet.” Baloo gives a grateful smile. “Come on, Little Britches. Akela’s got some toys for ya!” 

“For me?! Thank you!” 

* * *

It’s not long after that Baloo and Mowgli come home to the condo. The brownstone in Back Bay has been his and Bagheera’s home for years now. Akela helps bring in the Rubbermaid tub while Baloo carries the kid. He thinks the kid needs a nap, but first, food. 

“Honey! I’m home!” He sings into the house as he unlocks the door. The comforting smell of home-cooked curry wafts through the air. Beethoven’s Pastoral is playing in the background. If Baloo had to pick a heaven, this would be his. 

“In the kitchen,” his husband calls out. 

“Thanks, Akela for the help.” Baloo turns to his friend as he puts the storage box down. 

“No. Thank you. You’ve been a friendly face to the little guy all day. No need to traumatize him any more than necessary.” Akela gives a friendly pat on the shoulder and ruffles Mowgli’s hair. “You keep outta trouble, kid?” 

“‘Kay.” Mowgli’s gotten a little quieter since they left Akela’s place. But he waves as Akela leaves. 

“Now, Little Britches, you’re gonna meet the best person on the face of the earth. He might be a bit stuffy, but he’s got a heart big enough for a whale.” Baloo walks to the kitchen where he sees Bagheera in his casual-knockin’-bout-the-house clothes, apron tied on, and a wooden spoon with sauce ready to be tasted. 

“This is Bagheera. My husband.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if there's more to this, but you never know. I thought it was adorable and cute.


End file.
